Sharp Shootin' Cowboy (12 page)

“Do you ever think about Brian?”

“On occasion I do, but Bill and I have been happily married for forty-nine years. Although he wasn't my first love, he'll certainly be my last. I don't think it's the same with you and Reid as it was with me and Brian, Haley.”

“How can you say that? It's all wrong with Reid and me.
He's
all wrong.” Haley dropped her bag on the floor and threw herself into her grandmother's arms.

“I disagree, sweetheart.” Grams stroked her hair. “Maybe you have different beliefs about things, but seems to me that you and he are more alike than you think. You are obviously both strong-minded idealists. I think maybe you even want the same things, but just have a different way of going about it.”

“I believe what I believe, Grams. I want to be with someone who respects my opinions, not someone who wants to change me. I'm not about to let myself become anyone else's shadow.”

“A man like Reid is certainly the type who's continually going to challenge your way of thinking. It would take a strong woman to hold her own with that kind of man.”

“But I don't
want
that type of relationship, Grams. We'd only end up fighting all the time.” Maybe Grams was right, but Reid wouldn't just change her world, he'd
become
her world. If she let herself fall any further, she feared she'd lose it all. She'd lose
herself
in Reid Everett. Perhaps it was plain cowardice on her part, but she wasn't willing to risk everything she'd worked so hard for. She couldn't take that chance.

“Maybe so.” Grams smiled. “But making up can be a heck of a lot of fun.”

“Grams!” Haley protested.

“It's true! Make-up sex is the best kind. They've done surveys on
Oprah
.” She paused. “Do you really think you only want someone who agrees with you all the time?”

“Well, no…but we have to at least have
some
common ground.”

“Perhaps you and Reid truly aren't suited. Then again, maybe you just aren't ready for someone like him yet. Perhaps one day you will be.”

“I know Reid's not the right one for me, Grams. Time won't make any difference,” she insisted with forced conviction.

“Can I share one last pearl of grandmotherly wisdom?”

“Sure, Grams.”

“Your grandfather and I want you to achieve your goals, Haley, but not at the expense of your long-term happiness. It's great that you have ambitions, but remember, that doctoral degree you covet won't keep you warm at night. A good man is a whole lot more satisfying than a thermal blanket and a vibrator.”

“Grams! I can't believe you just said that!”

Her grandmother replied with a wink. “I may be old, sweetheart, but I'm not dead yet.”

Northern California

With damp palms and a dry throat, Dr. Haley Cooper stepped up to the podium. She always felt jittery prior to any public address, but tonight hundreds of people with very large bank accounts had turned out for the fund-raiser. She glanced nervously at Jeffrey sitting to her right, who nodded back at her with a reassuring smile. After five years of working together, he knew as well as she did that her passion would soon overcome her nervous qualms. She took a quick sip of water and then stepped up to the mic.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed colleagues,” she began with a tentative smile. “We have gathered together this evening as guardians of one of the most unfairly maligned of all living creatures.”

She signaled her assistant to begin the slide show.

“Once roaming North America from the Arctic tundra to Mexico, the gray wolf was ruthlessly and deliberately eradicated from the western United States. It has taken almost twenty years since their reintroduction to the Northern Rockies for wolves to recover. Their renewed presence has helped to restore ecological balance and even boosted the regional economies in several of these western states. But now, it seems our labor is about to be undone.”

She paused and let her gaze work the tables, seeking out and acknowledging every nod.

“Although a dozen conservation groups joined forces in the fight, our recent legal challenges to the delisting of wolves have been overruled. Our injunction to block hunting was also denied. Since the federal government removed the gray wolf as an endangered species, open season on wolves has already begun. Idaho has not only extended their wolf-hunting season, but it is now even considering aerial hunting as a means of predator control. We don't need a crystal ball to know where all this will lead.”

She gave the nod and the film clip began.

Haley watched the horrified expressions as the screen behind her flashed vivid images of the brutal and bloody aerial wolf hunt they'd captured on film five years earlier. The clip ended with snow stained red with blood, the grisly aftermath of the kill. She consoled herself that the wolves' deaths had not been in vain. The footage had gone viral on YouTube and the donations had flooded their offices.

“This inhumane practice must be stopped. Last year alone, dozens of collared wolves surrounding the national parks were senselessly slaughtered under the guise of
wolf
management
, with no regard to the individuals wearing radio collars, animals crucial to our long-term studies of this fascinating species.”

She continued, her throat thick with emotion. “Hunters in the west claim that the wolves are depleting the native elk populations. Ranchers maintain their livestock is at risk, but these claims have no basis in fact. Nevertheless, both of these groups have powerful lobbyists in Washington, whereas the animals have no voice…but ours.

“We are gathered this evening in support of the proposed Protect America's Wildlife Act, sponsored by our own Senator Feinstein. If passed, this legislation would effectively close the loopholes in the existing Airborne Hunting Act. It will protect America's wolves from all such barbaric practices. Unless we act quickly and decisively, we will soon face a second eradication of wolves.”

Haley's gaze skirted once more over the tables. Many of the donors were already reaching for their checkbooks. “While this is certain to be a long and costly battle, with your generous and ongoing support, we will ultimately prevail. Thank you.”

* * *

“You were fabulous tonight,” Jeffrey gushed, handing Haley a glass of champagne. “I knew even when you were a student that you'd become a great asset. No one can charm the purses and checkbooks like Dr. Haley Cooper.”

“Thank you,” she said, adding with a sigh, “But I'm glad it's done. How much do you think we raised?”

He smiled over his drink. “By my estimate, at least five hundred grand.”

Haley beamed. “That's twice what we'd hoped for. It's more than enough to fund all the radio collars for my mating pairs study.”

Jeffrey's smile faded. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that project's going to have to go on the back burner.”

“Again?” He heart dropped with disappointment. “Why?”

“Because we need all the money for our attorneys and the media campaign.”

“But we just raised half a mil,” she protested. “Can't I at least have a small percentage of that to buy the collars?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Half a mil might sound like a lot, but it's only a drop in the bucket. We spent twice that in Idaho, Montana, Washington, Oregon, and Utah and still lost. We'll need to tap into all of our resources if we're going to prevent delisting in Wyoming.”

“I see. But it seems to me that our chances are slim no matter how much we spend. The wolf population has more than recovered. You know it's only a matter of time before they allow hunting. Why not simply concentrate our efforts on protecting the packs in Yellowstone and Grand Teton? It's where most of our study subjects are anyway.”

Jeffrey's lipped thinned. “That would be to admit defeat.”

“But we're swimming against a riptide here, Jeffrey.”

“The decisions can be reversed,” he insisted. “We can't give up until we get new legislation passed.”

“I don't agree, Jeffrey. I think we're just wasting money that could be put to a much better purpose.” Although he'd been her mentor for the past six years, they didn't always see eye to eye. He was far too involved in politics for her liking, using his research to support lobbies and lawsuits, while she cared more about the animals themselves. “And while we're on the subject, I should tell you that I'm
thinking
very hard about accepting a job in Wyoming.”

“What?” His gaze narrowed. “This is the first you've said about it. Why haven't you mentioned it before?”

“When have I had a chance? We've hardly seen each other in months.” She often wished they had more time together, but field research and various projects often kept them apart.

“I promise to make it up to you,” he said. “We'll go away together once my current project is done.”

“You've said that before, but it never happens. Something always seems to come up.” She paused. “Jeffrey, what's going on with us?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“It just feels like we're drifting apart.”

She'd told herself for years that romance held little importance in the great scheme of things. They had the kind of relationship she'd always
thought
she wanted, one founded on friendship, mutual respect, and common goals, but lately it seemed much more like a business partnership than a romantic relationship. She wondered about his recent lack of interest in sex. Was he involved with someone else? Was that why they'd spent so little time together lately?

He shrugged. “We're both busy. Sometimes the greater good requires personal sacrifices, but I promise to take some time off once I'm finished with the Denali project.”

“How is it coming?” she asked.

“Better now that I have a new assistant.”

“You hired someone?” She struggled to digest that news. “You didn't even tell me you were considering a new assistant.” She wondered who it was. It was strange he hadn't mentioned it before.

“It's no biggie, Haley.” Jeffrey shrugged it off without elaboration.

“Are you coming over tonight?” she asked.

“I figured you'd be too tired,” he answered. “I know
I
am. This kind of schmoozy thing always wipes me out.” Odd. That wasn't like Jeffrey at all. He loved attention in any form.

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” She struggled to mask her disappointment. She'd hoped to celebrate their success together. After nearly three months of celibacy, she was wound tight with sexual tension.

“So, what's this job you're considering?” he asked, oblivious to her thoughts.

“U.S. Fish and Wildlife is forming a task force to review and monitor wolf management in the northern Rockies. I got a call from a recruiter about it a few weeks ago.”

“And you're actually considering it?” Jeffrey regarded her with incredulity. “Let me get this straight. You're going to leave your position with this organization and abandon a possible tenure track at the university?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn't?”

She held her breath, waiting but knowing he'd never express the words she needed to hear. Jeffrey supported and encouraged her work and appreciated her intellect and dedication, but it wasn't enough anymore.

“What about us?” he finally asked.

Her gaze sought his. “Is there really any
us
?” Although they had a tacit understanding about exclusivity, he'd made no move toward any kind of permanent commitment. And though she'd hinted several times about moving in together, he'd always hedged about that too.

His brows met in a scowl. “You know how I feel about marriage.”

“But I want a family, Jeffrey.”

“The world is already overpopulated,” he argued.

“And many countries have taken measures to control it. One child, Jeffrey. That's all I want.” In almost five years together she and Jeffrey had never had unprotected sex. Not once. He was obsessive about it. For the longest time she'd secretly hoped he'd come around about the idea of kids, but he still hadn't. She, on the other hand, had begun thinking about it. A lot.

“If you feel that strongly, why don't you just adopt a kid?”

“On my own?”

“Why not?” His nonchalance made her heart drop.

“Because I'd want my child to have a normal family—a mother
and
a father. We aren't going anywhere, Jeffrey. We want different things now.” She wanted a family, but once more he balked at the very idea. It was past time to reevaluate her future.

“So you're really going to leave?”

“Yes.” She exhaled slowly, almost in relief. Perhaps a new job in a new place really was the answer, and eventually a new relationship might follow. She'd held on too long. He didn't love her any more than she loved him. It was time to move on.

“I didn't think at first that I'd take the job,” she said, “but I can't just sit by and watch from a distance while all we've worked for comes undone. And I'm tired of all the politics, Jeffrey. I want to do something for the greater good. You can wage your war in the courtrooms, but I'm taking mine back to the field.”

Whiskey Mountain, Wyoming backcountry

“Goddammit, slow down! I need to catch my wind. The air's so thin up here I can hardly breathe.”

Reid ground his teeth.
It
would
probably
help
if
you
dropped
about
eighty
pounds.

In their brochure, Everett's Extreme Expeditions cautioned potential clients about the need for physical conditioning prior to a backcountry trek, but some folks seemed to think money took care of everything. This one was worse than most.

Frank Barstow had expected not just a private guide, but a personal pack mule.
Reid.
He'd been carrying almost all the gear since they'd left their lakeside base camp. Apparently, Barstow didn't know the unspoken law among all outdoorsmen—you pack your own shit or you leave it behind.

They'd ridden the horses as far as they could, but that was about five miles back. The rest of the way was wild and rugged terrain, only accessible by foot. It was also all uphill, which made it the perfect habitat for the country's largest wild herd of bighorn sheep.

“I dropped almost ten grand on this hunting trip,” Barstow continued to grouse. “We've been hiking this goddamned wilderness for the better part of a week, and I haven't seen a single elk to show for all that.”

“You'll get your elk just like you got your bighorn sheep,” Reid promised. “Or I'll refund half your money.”

Jared would shit a brick if he heard
that
promise, but Reid was damned tired of rich assholes who treated hunting guides like lesser beings. He'd been home three months, but he was wrong to think he'd be able to slip right back into his old life. They all expected it though. He was resentful about playing babysitter to begin with, but it was only getting harder to keep his mouth shut and temper in check—especially with Barstow.

He was a big man with a ginger-colored beard who reminded Reid all too much of a certain Austin Powers' henchman with the same initials. He'd told Reid to call him FB, but Reid secretly thought of him as “Fat Bastard” ever since.

Reid dropped his pack and pulled out two water bottles, offering one to FB who waved it aside with a grunt, only to pull out a flask of Scotch instead. The guy drank like a fish. Reid hoped the man wouldn't have a coronary before the trip was over. He didn't know how the hell he'd get FB back down the mountain if he did.

“We've got about another half mile and then we'll make camp up on that ridge.” Reid pointed up ahead. “There's a gorge down below where the elk come for water. We
might
catch some of them at dusk, but the best time is gonna be right before sunup.”

That was the second problem. Fat Bastard liked to eat
and
sleep. While Reid was used to hitting the trail with a thermos of instant coffee and a wad of beef jerky in his pack, FB refused to budge before breakfast. Eggs—sunny-side up with no brown around the edges. That's right. He was camp cook now too. Went along with the private guide gig.

Two more days, he reminded himself, and then he'd take a few off. Maybe get away for some badly needed R & R. Tonya was slowly wearing him down to go away with her to Chico Hot Springs. He'd avoided giving her any answer for as long as he could. He was still trying to get his head straight.

He didn't love her. Didn't know if he ever could, but she was an old friend of the family, a decent companion, and keen to get back together. They had a lot in common, and he was damned tired of being alone. He was on the wrong side of thirty now and wanting to settle down. Hell, the way things were going, he'd probably be digging out her old engagement ring before year's end. That was a dangerous thought.

“You rested?” he prodded FB. “We don't have much daylight. Maybe another hour or two, and we still need to set up camp. If we move it along, we can try and spot some of those elk.”

It took nearly an act of God to get FB moving before sunup, but by the time its rays were melting the shadows, they were in position overlooking the river below. Reid peered through his glasses into the tree line. Just as he'd hoped, several elk were emerging to drink.

“You're in luck, Barstow.” He handed him the field glasses. “There's a six-point bull down there with your name on it.”

“Where? I don't see it.”

“There. About ten yards into the tree line. You'd best get that twenty-pound cannon of yours ready.” Reid hoped to hell the guy knew how to fire the thing. “You sure you don't want to shoot mine?” He offered his .300 Winchester.

“I know what I'm doing,” FB growled. “I bought this baby specifically for big game.”

“Maybe so, but if you're not careful, the recoil from that fifty cal will take your head off.”

At any closer range, the rifle would also destroy any chance of claiming the elk as a trophy, but they were at least four hundred yards out. FB fancied himself an expert marksman. He'd literally bought lock, stock, and barrel into the new cult of distance shooting. It was also why he'd forked over ten grand to hire a guide who was a former marine scout sniper. Reid's reputation was a mixed blessing.

FB handed Reid his field glasses, raised his rifle, and peered through the scope just as the bull emerged into the clearing followed by a small herd of cows.

“Don't take the shot until he's completely in the clear, nothing within 15 meters on either side of him,” Reid instructed the hunter and then called off some adjustments. The elk raised its head and bugled, a sound that not only attracted elk cows, but gave every big game hunter an instant hard-on. “Got him sighted?” Reid asked.

FB grunted. The bull stood stock-still, in a broadside stance—a perfect kill shot.

“All right now. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then fire,” Reid advised.

“Holy shit! Look at that!” In the instant FB would have pulled the trigger, the bull spun around to face one of the biggest wolves Reid had ever seen. A second and third wolf emerged and slowly circled, flanking the bull who now had the river at its back and almost nowhere to run.

“Don't shoot,” Reid said. “You've lost your chance.”

“Fuck that! If I can't have my elk, I'll take the wolf.”

“The hell you will,” Reid growled. “Wolves are endangered in Wyoming.”

“Then I'll pay the fucking fine. I'm taking down that wolf.”

Should he disarm him? His job was not only to keep the client safe, but also to ensure no laws were broken during the hunt. But Reid hesitated too long. The rifle exploded and kicked back straight back into FB's face. He screamed and threw the gun down, blood streaming down his face.

Ignoring the hunter, Reid snatched up the field glasses, hoping the stupid son of a bitch had missed. The herd had bolted, but the first wolf was down, bleeding heavily and struggling to recover its feet. It was then Reid noticed the animal's radio collar.
Shit
.

The other two wolves were circling, teeth bared.
Double
shit.

They wouldn't miss a meal after all. They were ruthless killers that way, even to their own kind. In seconds they'd rip their injured pack mate to shreds. With no other choice but a mercy kill, Reid quickly chambered a round and took his shot.

* * *

Haley had been scanning the GPS reports all morning, correlating every collared wolf with its last tracked position on her digital map. She did this daily, notifying wildlife services whenever a wolf encroached on areas occupied by grazing livestock. It was a tedious task but necessary to protect both wolves and cattle. She also hoped her efforts would help to build a better rapport with the ranching community, not that she'd expected much progress on
that
front.

She paused with a frown when she came to number 442, the main breeding female she'd studied for her doctoral dissertation. She shoved the report aside to pull out the one from the day before that showed 442 deep in the Whiskey Mountains. Impossible! Although a wolf on the hunt could easily cover fifty miles in a day, there was no way in hell she'd traveled into the city of Jackson.

Haley's throat tightened. The positioning signal could mean only one thing—Cinderella was dead.

* * *

With only seventy-two hours to report the wolf incident, Reid drove into Jackson. He'd already filed the compulsory report to the Board of Outfitters in Cheyenne. Although an investigation would still follow, the board had assured Reid that the hunter would be charged, but there wouldn't be any upshot for Reid's mercy kill. He knew the board had gone easy on him due to his family's upstanding reputation, but he still had to turn in the collar to Wyoming Game and Fish.

“Ah, Reid! I'd heard you were back.” Jim Banks, the regional chief of WGF, extended his hand with a smile. “I'm glad to see you home safe.”

“You might not be so happy to see me once you know why I'm here,” Reid replied.

“And why's that?”

Reid held up the radio collar. “An overzealous trophy hunter. I've already made my report to the Board of Outfitters.”

“I see.” Jim accepted the collar with a grimace. “Unfortunately, I'm not handling wolves anymore. We have a new federal liaison who's overseeing wolf management. C'mon. Let me introduce you to her.”

Reid didn't relish meeting the new liaison with news of a dead wolf, but he figured the circumstances were best explained in person. There was no honest way around it. Jim continued with a few more trite remarks as he led Reid down a short hallway of offices.

They stopped at the last door where a tiny blonde sat behind a desk frowning over a stack of papers. Jim knocked. She looked up. Her gaze flickered from Jim to Reid and then stuck. Her eyes widened and her smile froze.

Holy
shit. It couldn't be.

Reid's chest seized as his gaze honed in on a face he'd never forgotten. And one he'd never expected to see again. She was five years older now, wore her hair differently, and hid her pretty green eyes behind ugly glasses, but he'd recognize her anywhere.

“Reid.” Jim's voice jarred him out of his shock. “I'd like to introduce Dr. Haley Cooper. Dr. Cooper, this is Reid Everett. His family runs one of the oldest backcountry hunting outfits in the region.”

* * *

Oh
my
God. It's him. I can't breathe.

Recognition simultaneously numbed her mind and struck her dumb. What were the chances of running into Reid Everett after all this time? She'd never even considered the possibility when she'd accepted the job.

Haley cleared her throat, but her voice still emerged as a barely audible croak. “Mr. Everett and I are already acquainted. We met several years ago in California.”

Reid raised a brow. “So you haven't forgotten?”

“No,” she said. “I haven't forgotten.” Although she'd done her best to, his image had never faded in her mind. It was still there as crystal clear as it had been at their parting. But
this
man, the one who seemed to use up all the air in her office, was so changed that she might not have known him without the introduction.

His hair was longer and lighter, and his face was leaner, the angles sharper. There was a hardness to his mouth, and gone was the hint of humor from his blue eyes. He'd always dwarfed her, but now seemed so much bigger. But it wasn't just his appearance, there was something different in his whole demeanor, an edge that he'd never had before.

“What a coincidence,” Jim remarked, oblivious to the tension that charged the air. “Since you know each other, perhaps Reid here would like to orient you to the region in my place? Dr. Cooper has yet to get the lay of the land,” he explained to Reid, who still hadn't even blinked.

“There's really no need,” she blurted. “I know the area quite well already. I spent two years in Yosemite and Grand Teton National Parks when I was working on my dissertation.”

“Maybe you know the geography,” Jim countered, “but you don't know the people. The ranchers and outfitters here are a close-knit community. The Everetts know them all. I can't think of anyone better suited to be your guide.” He chuckled. “No pun intended.”

“I'd be pleased to show Dr. Cooper around,” Reid replied in a soft, deep baritone that sent ripples over her skin.

“Another time, maybe,” she replied tightly. “I have a lot to do. I'm really swamped.”

“Then I'm sorry to add to your burden,” Jim said.

“What do you mean?” Even as she asked, her gaze tracked to the radio collar in his hands. “Oh my God! What happened?”

“Reid here can fill you in. No doubt the two of you have a lot of catching up to do anyway. Guess I'll leave you to your business now. Good to see you again, Reid.” Jim laid the collar on her desk, tipped his hat, and left.

Haley stared helplessly after him, struggling to maintain her equilibrium and silently cursing him for leaving her alone with Reid. First, she'd received the shock of seeing him again, and now had a dead study subject to deal with? And not just any subject. She picked up the collar, tracing the number with her fingers, shutting her eyes on a whisper. “Cinderella.”

Reid's brows pulled together. “Come again?”

“This collar belongs…
belonged
…to 442 F. I was part of the team who captured and collared her as a pup. We called her Cinderella.”

“Unusual name for a wolf,” he remarked. “I could see maybe Red Riding Hood, but Cinderella?”

“She was an unusual specimen, an underling who rose to become the alpha female of one of the largest and most powerful wolf packs in the Tetons. Thousands of wolf-watchers loved her.
National Geographic
even made a documentary about her. She did so many things wolves
don't
do. I built my entire doctoral dissertation around her.”